


Luck of the Draw

by Rynadine



Category: Zootopia (2016)
Genre: Action/Adventure, Angst, Anxiety, Character Study, Constructive Criticism Welcome, Dynamic Characters, Eventual Happy Ending, Eventual Romance, F/M, Humor, Past Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, mf character arcs
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-17
Updated: 2019-12-03
Packaged: 2020-09-05 19:44:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 5
Words: 17,581
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20278798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rynadine/pseuds/Rynadine
Summary: Nick, still unsure of his ability to serve the other side of the law, tries to adapt to his new life as his cool-guy facade starts to slip. His living situation, growing feelings for Judy, and distrusting co-workers don't help. Soon, an ill-fated missing mammal case turned undercover attempt forces him into a lengthy opportunity for introspection.There will be reasonably graphic violence and infrequent uses of crude language/actions, however the first sixth-ish of the story is pretty clean. References to sex will probably come along at some point, but no guarantee.





	1. Nine of Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> No, I don't own Zootopia nor Disney, nor any of the characters from the movie. YET. You'd best believe I'll steal them one day. Just you wait, Disney.
> 
> This is my first foray into fanfiction, so I'd be extremely appreciative if I could get some constructive criticism. Don't be afraid to pull any punches. If I suck somewhere (or it all sucks) I'd really, really like to know before I continue on the path I'm going. Praise would be cool too if you feel that my ego needs to be any bigger.
> 
> A lot of this story is going to be studying the character of Nick Wilde as well as looking at the aftereffects of the life he's lived so far. The "anxious-about co-workers" angle comes from personal experience as well as some left-over paranoia on Nick's part. Considering the fact that not one officer helps Judy through the Missing Mammals case, it wouldn't surprise me if they were coldhearted towards a species maligned even more than a bunny, and thus that arc was born. Trust me, I've got more planned out than that. Much more.
> 
> The major thing in this chapter I'm worried about is how I captured the characters. Is Nick too far in the anxious direction, and was it too strange to see him asking to spar with Judy? I genuinely believe that like most slick characters (in media and in real life) Nick is a lot more anxious than he lets on, but I certainly could be wrong. Please let me know, as those factors are integral to the way I'm telling this story.
> 
> Thanks.

The first gloved punch Judy threw was strangely inquisitive - there was that classic speed to it, but she was still far enough away for it to be clearly telegraphed. Regardless, Nick's eyes widened almost comically as the glove connected with the thickly-foamed helmet, his jaw snapping backwards a little. Mercifully, the headgear had nullified most of the impact, but the fox noted with a little joy that a smirk played across her similarly-helmeted muzzle. Typical. Her follow-up strike very nearly hit, but Nick stepped back and assessed his situation: it was clear that fighting through brute strength would not be doing him any favors.

_ First off, she’s entirely too happy at the idea of hitting me. Second off, she’s definitely faster and stronger than you are - you need an opening and something clever. _

Nick paused, analyzing the bunny’s stance; she was ever-so-slightly leaning back as her fist receded, with her face remaining at the same smirking expression. 

_ Is that the natural Carrots-brand confidence, or is she trying to cover her balance? Either way, your chance will probably be when she kicks. _

He sidestepped as her left arm struck out again, only to throw a probing punch of his own. Vulpine glove met lapine block with a satisfying _ thwack_, blocking the attempt seemingly effortlessly. She smiled at him a little pityingly. 

“Gonna have to try harder than that, Nick,” the doe remarked.

A similar smile found its way onto the tod’s face. “Who says I’m trying?” came the easy reply.

In reality, he was exerting himself more than he’d like to admit - Judy’s speed was daunting, and the warm-up beforehand had been thorough. Nevertheless, another strike connected with his side, interrupting his thoughts. Huffing, Nick flowed with the hit to disperse the impact before taking another step back. Learning how to take a punch was just as important as learning how to throw one, as the academy demonstrated. Offhandedly, he noticed that the sparring ring was bigger than it appeared from the outside. Plenty of space left to dodge.

The following kick struck just where he was, and allowed him to review Judy’s stance. As he suspected, she was off-balance at the apex of her kick - due to the bunny’s size, she was usually engaging mammals much bigger than herself. Having a similarly-sized target for once was allowing her to use less-practiced same-size techniques. Still, the power and swiftness behind the kick were unmistakable.

_ Thaaaaat’s it, Carrots. Gimme another kick like that and we’re as good as done! _

Fox and rabbit circled one another slowly, looking for weaknesses in one another's stance or even simple diversions. Both stood in light positions, ready to act or shift at a moment’s notice. Although many bigger members of Precinct One could get away with a heavyset style, the two diminutive officers had no such luck. Wiles, speed, and cleverness were all key to sparring effectively at a smaller size range. Not that it would make much difference in the long run, as both approaches were devastatingly effective. Judy fought aggressively, looking to end things quickly and decisively. Nick preferred reaction to action, not a fighter by nature. Defense to offense. The vulpine’s guarded style manifested itself through dodges and counters, allowing him to study his opponent.

At last, Judy’s impatience overtook her. A kick flew out and crested centimeters from the fox’s stomach; just enough for him to grab the foot as it receded and raise it back and towards her head. Judy’s already unstable balance came entirely undone as the doe sprawled backward, hitting the soft blue of the mat with an audible thump. Nick immediately followed through, kneeling on her stomach and locking her arm tightly. Simultaneous grins spread across both fighters’ faces as the rabbit realized she was entirely trapped.

“Judy Hopps, meet the mat. The mat, meet Judy Hopps. Or are you two already _ close _friends?” he snarked. The rabbit tried desperately to hide a chuckle behind a groan, and after a brief struggle she tapped out. 

_ Do I count as something clever? Yes, yes I do. _ thought the tod gleefully. It was more than a little surprising to him that he’d been able to ground her so quickly, and frankly Nick wasn’t sure if she had underestimated him or she just had less experience fighting smaller mammals. He dearly hoped it was the latter.

Releasing her arm and still grinning like a fool, the fox came to his feet. Judy grumbled playfully, rolling backward to her feet before jumping to a standing position. Both were pleased with his success. Nick felt a special pride at knowing he could match_ Judy Hopps _of all mammals. Superbun. The grin he wore widened at the thought.

“Look at you, Nick! Already bullying poor widdle bunnies on day one,” she scolded with a paw on her hip. Genuine excitement for his improving skill peeked through her words.

With a paw raised to his chest, Nick pulled his ears back and gave her a scandalized look.

“Madam, I resent the _ unfounded insinuation, _” he gestured dramatically at this, as the rabbit merely rolled her eyes, “that you are a ‘poor widdle bunny.’ I’ve seen your rhino takedown video, Fluff.”

“Are you a rhino, though? No, no you are not,” she shot back with an increasingly mirthful stare.

He patted himself down before turning briefly to flick his tail, sarcastically checking himself over. Looking to the rabbit, he briefly noticed how her gaze lingered on the fuzzy appendage. Pleased, he opted to share the results of his impromptu examination. “Nope. Still as foxy as ever, unfortunately,” he sighed theatrically.

A snort escaped Judy’s muzzle before she put her gloves up again, resuming her fighting stance. Determination spread over the doe’s features as she made a “bring it” gesture, ready for round two. “Unfortunately. Let’s go again. This time without the introductions,” she challenged.

Nick smiled again and mirrored her fists, beginning to circle with her. She rushed in again and soon their sparring felt almost like a dance - trading hit for hit, block for counter, overextension for takedown. Judy would catch Nick’s legs in a sweep, but he’d roll backward in a seemingly practiced escape before following up with a strike. Nick would throw out a kick, but Judy would sidestep and return with a kick of her own. It had a rough, combative melody, but there was a waltzing, rhythmic element throughout. The rabbit took risks in her attacks, taking opportunities the vulpine didn’t expect. More often than not they would pay off, but occasionally she left herself open to swift retribution as Nick remained shrewd and precise in his attacks and defense. Time slipped by as they clashed, trapped in their own little world. Tod and doe contested one another with increasing force. Their breath burned in their lungs.

The most beautiful part of the dance was the way it progressed and evolved. Fox and rabbit would synchronize in technique, feinting and jabbing and kicking and blocking to an inaudible tempo. Neither fought intending to hurt. Both struck and were struck with a smile on their face and complete trust in their partner, a brilliant chorus of soft _thumps _and _thwacks._

The tempo slowed as fatigue set in, letting forth a more experimental rhythm. Smart remarks quieted as Nick and Judy began to pant, relieving some of the built-up heat. The fox blocked a kick with his paws, only to find that he left his muzzle open for strikes. The bunny tried a takedown from the front, only to be met with a quick kick in response. The cadence of the sparring softened as tiredness set into both parties. Nick failed to dodge an easy punch, followed by Judy blatantly missing an opportunity for a sweep. Still, any mammal could see that the pair was having fun with one another.

Eventually, the dance had come to an end as both officers were overcome with exhaustion. A brief smile, some panting, and a fist bump later, Nick shifted his focus to the nearby clock as his eyes widened.

_ 10:54… Have we really been sparring at the precinct for almost an hour? _

Turning his attention to Judy, he noted she seemed just as surprised at how the time had gotten away from them.

_ Huh. Time flies when you’re having fun, I guess. Fighting like that was… Cathartic. Who knew getting punched could be so relaxing? _

“Well, Carrots,” he drawled, clapping his ungloved paws together, “I had a ball, but it appears our little playdate has run long. We’d both better get going if we want to get a decent rest for tomorrow.”

She considered his words and nodded, taking off her helmet with a slickness born from exertion. “Yeah, you’re right. Wouldn’t want you to have _ another _ cup of coffee tomorrow morning plus the two you already guzzle,” she teased. 

Nick responded with a look of mock outrage and a matching eye roll. Despite this, he didn’t have a defense to that remark. “Have you seen how big the pot is? They’re providing all that _ for free. _It’s no wonder I became a cop,” he retorted.

_ It’s no wonder at all. _

The teasing glare she was shooting him softened, and she approached for a hug despite their mutually matted fur. The ring was quiet for a moment as the two mammals embraced. “Thanks, Nick. It’s nice to finally have you as a partner, and I… I’m excited to work with you,” she finished a little lamely. Hesitantly, she broke off the hug. Flushed ears drooped behind her head in subtle embarrassment as they exited the ring together.

Touched by her authenticity, the vulpine’s face softened as well. “I’m excited to work with you too,” he said genuinely. A pause followed as the fox considered his next words, his ear twitching once.

_ How honest do you want to be? You can’t exactly ramble about how you’re terrified to be a cop this late into the game. You should ramble in your head instead. You’re already this far along. What if you can’t do it? At this point, you don’t even have anything legally-adjacent to go back to, and nobody you used to know will trust you. You aren’t even sure your current coworkers trust me. Your _cop _coworkers. Should they? Twenty years is a long time to be avoiding the law. Ironic, huh? _

When he spoke next, it was with a noticeable degree of care and precision. Nick’s face was a near-perfect mask of casual indifference. “I know it was a little weird - alright, let’s be honest, it’s pretty weird - for the illustrious and obviously physically capable Nick Wilde to ask you to spar, but I just needed to get a little more practice in. I needed to make sure I could keep pace with you, Judy.” A small hint of discomfort made its way through the mask as his eyes dragged downwards.

_ Technically true, but you’re leaving out some of the bigger points, Wilde. Lying by omission on day one is not a good look for THE up-and-coming fox cop, especially if you want to be trusted. Defying stereotypes is one of the reasons you took this job. _The tod’s face fell a little further. Guilt briefly clouded his features before being replaced by his mask.

The grey doe in question smiled sympathetically, her ears springing back up. “It’s okay. I was worried about proving myself too, but I know you’ll do great, Nick. You were the salutatorian of a big class of cadets, your marksmammalship set records at the academy,” he made a “go on” gesture with his paws, and her now-sardonic grin grew, “and you’re a… real articulate fella. I’m glad you asked me to spar. I know you don’t like to fight paw-to-paw, but anyone could see you’re committing to being a cop.” 

By the end of her impromptu speech, he could feel some of his anxiety easing; How did she always calm his fears so easily? Her support throughout the academy’s grueling program was nothing short of a godsend. Sagging fox ears perked noticeably as he pulled her into another affectionate hug, tension evaporating from the tod and bunny in waves. His tail wagged silently.

_ One day you’ll tell her the full story. Not quite first-day-partnership material. Maybe third, if you make the wise decision to _finally _reunite with alcohol. _

He let the moment sit for a little longer. Reluctantly, Nick pulled away from the embrace. “Seriously, Fluff. W- You… you should head home. We’ve probably got a full day of meters and maiding to look forward to tomorrow,” he murmured. The doe smiled, giving him a small pat on the shoulder and a quick goodbye before heading towards the locker room. Pleased with the fact that she hadn’t caught his slip-up, he turned towards the male locker room and strode inside. 

Despite his exhaustion and the effects of being hit for just under an hour, Nick felt strangely elated. He’d proven himself to Judy, and she believed in him enough to indulge his uncharacteristic request. The continued support she was giving him to improve and turn faux confidence into real confidence was something he appreciated on more levels than one. Hoping that rabbit felt the same, he took one last look at the gym and its fixtures. Maybe tomorrow he’d try weightlifting. He was sure that Judy would want to do the same, as he spied her eyeing it during their match.

_ Thank God for the Precinct One gym. Don’t think you’ll have to worry much about showers or being clean much anymore. Score another point for “Things Nick loves about being a real cop.” Plus you have somewhere quiet, relaxing and healthy to vent physical stress. Huh. _ Glowing with newfound optimism, he looked down at himself appraisingly. _ You can do this, Wilde. You can be a real cop. The other guys n’ gals will come around eventually. Until then… you’ve got Carrots, and maybe Finnick. _

Shucking his clothes and placing them inside his greying locker, the joyful vulpine took stock of his unfamiliar surroundings. Faintly, the stench of long-lingering sweat permeated the air. The room was empty - odd, as Nick guessed usually at least one or two other officers would be showering or changing at this time of night. Whitewashed brick walls encapsulated the room cleanly, but it was clear some of the paint was beginning to peel. A hint of disappointment marred his features when he turned his gaze to the other lockers. Rusted locks of varying colors dotted the room in a poor imitation of what could be a modern art piece. The un-rusted locks weren’t much better. 

_ The only ones in here you couldn’t pick here faster than Carrots could say something cheery are your own and maybe some of the biggest ones. Seriously, does anybody here value their stuff? _ The fox paused, thinking. _ Then again, who would steal someone’s clothes? _With a glance at his gym bag to make sure it hadn’t been taken during the match, he closed the locker and put his own lock once again.

_ Then again again, if certain coworkers start pushing their luck… _ Shaking his head, the tod sighed. _ Dumb fox. Who are they gonna suspect first when a lock gets picked? Take a “Wilde” guess. Surprise surprise, it’s the fox. _

Nick turned, approaching the showers with fur shampoo in paw. The tiled walls were a nice change of scenery. Ratcheting up the shower to a soothing heat, he let his eyes close and body relax. Water ran through the fox’s fur in rivulets. Only a few bruises had emerged so far - a product of some of the times he fell wrong onto the mat. Sighing, he washed his head thoroughly, letting his mind wander as the musky scent faded under the pressure. Soap dripped down the tod’s figure in steady streams.

_ How she’s gonna react when you tell her where you’re living? Maybe angrily. Probably pityingly. _ The vulpine’s ears fell back. _ Where you are now isn’t a problem, though. A lot of mammals have it way worse than you do. Being a cop gives you a rewarding job, a place to get clean, and mammals who may or may not like you very much instead of hating you outright. The laughter in the bullpen this morning might not have been a fluke. _

Another sigh escaped him before he could help it. _ You’re in a good place right now. Stop being so anxious! Keep it together! Where’s Nick Wilde, professional smooth-talker with a trademark sharp silver tongue? He’s not part of your criminal side and you know it. Why are you even anxious about telling her? She’s Carrots. She’ll understand. At worst you’ll get a few more nice bruises to count on the arm, and at best you can tell her after you get a decent place. You’ll only be lying like this for a little while longer. Someday you’ll look back on this and laugh at how scared you were to tell her. It’ll be another entry into everyone’s favorite list of “Things Nick Wilde isn’t proud of but are kind of funny in retrospect.” _

An attempt at recentering himself only managed to feed the anxiety. The tod’s breath was coming out in short, sporadic bursts and the room felt like it was spinning a little. Vulpine eyes screwed shut, trying desperately to calm himself.

_ Calm. Down. You _ can’t _ have a panic attack in the precinct showers! Last time was day one of the academy! You’re better than that now! _

The words that flitted through the fox’s mind earlier came back with an unexpected vengeance, screwing his eyes even further closed. 

_ Twenty years is a long time to be avoiding the law. _

A steadying paw stabilized him against a wall, the sounds of heavy breathing reverberating throughout the small shower. An even breathing rhythm briefly took over before falling back into a mess of panicked gasps, his vision crowded with a minty sludge of toothpaste-esque cyan and white. Each tile of the shower’s wall congealed into another with startling efficiency, like an overly viscous syrup.

_ Keep it together, Slick. You’ve got Judy. Where’s that lovable smirk of yours hiding? _

_ ...Hiding. _

Nick let the sensory white noise of the water calm him down for a minute or so, the world shifting back into place. As the last of the soap came out of his fur, the tod turned the knob of the shower down. It shut off with a softening hiss. His mind was still jumbled and a feeling of sickness had spread over him, but one thought rang through loud and clear as his face relaxed into a more comfortable mask.

_ Never let them see that they get to you. _

He stepped out from the steam. 


	2. Six of Clubs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick & Judy have some conversations with some late-night coworkers, and Nick finally makes his way back home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> No, I don't own Zootopia. I think.
> 
> I wanted to differentiate Nick/Judy's thoughts, and so there's a 1st person/2nd person difference there. Read into it as you will.
> 
> Criticism of like any kind is still welcome. Again, this is my first time writing fanfiction, so even basic stuff helps. Thanks.

The atrium of the ZPD’s Precinct One was a place to marvel over — sizable sandstone pillars ringed the front, giving the building a distinct air of authority and safety. The interior was even more impressive at night, with its tawny lights giving the room a comforting glow. Night-shift officers dotted the area, making lazy late-night conversation in small groups. 

As Judy stepped into the lobby, gym bag over her shoulder, she couldn’t help the feeling that Nick was hiding something from her. A replay of his earlier slip-up ran through the rabbit’s mind on a loop.

_ “Seriously, Fluff. W— You… you should head home.” _

It wasn’t much detective work to figure out he was going to say “we” before correcting himself. Why, though? Was something wrong with his home? Did he plan on staying around the precinct for some other reason? 

Concentration contorted her face as she walked. Unconsciously, the lapine had almost reached the doors of the precinct while absorbed in thought.

_ It just seems so… weird! Why would he bother correcting himself? I wouldn’t have given it a second thought if he hadn’t. Nick knows he can trust me or any of the other officers if there’s a problem with where he lives. What if h—_

A large grey hoof interrupted her thought process, just before she reached the door. Snapping out of her reverie, she turned to see Officer McHorn trying to get her attention. Snarlov stood a little ways behind him, both officers looking down at Judy appraisingly.

McHorn gave her an amiable wave, eyes shifting a touch uncertainly as he addressed her. Although the rhino had initially looked down on her skills as a police officer, grudging respect had begun to form after months of her consistently exemplary performance. 

“Hey, Hopps, before you go — some of us guys were thinking about grabbing drinks tomorrow at around eight. Do ya want to join us?”

Judy considered the offer. Despite her work solving the Bellwether mess, her relationships with about half the other officers had only upgraded from “demeaning pity” to “indifferent acceptance.” Going out off-duty with them should help develop some of those friendships, and the rabbit valued that — but Nick deserved a chance to develop friendships as well. She reached a decision.

“Would it be okay if Officer Wilde could come too? It’d be a good chance for him to get to know you guys,” she paused, considering her words carefully, “and I think that you’d like him,” she finished. Nick himself had taught her that first impressions were key when dealing with mammals, regardless if they were soon-to-be friends or targets. Often a mammal’s first impression was what anchored the rest of their thoughts from then-on; it was part of the reason he wore his trademark Pawaiian shirts so much. The shirts were disarming, in every sense of the word.

Again, McHorn’s eyes shifted away from her stare. The uncaringness that usually came so naturally to him seemed forced and more than a bit stymied. “It’s… more of a senior officer thing. The fox doesn’t have the years on him yet. He’s welcome to come along then, but I have to say ‘no’ now,” he muttered. 

That threw the rabbit a little. Something felt distinctly off about the core of that argument. Her head cocked in confusion before the inconsistency struck her, and the insinuations she sensed weren’t pleasant.

_ Surely my nine months on the force total don’t count as “senior?” _

“Why invite me, then? I shouldn’t count as a ‘senior officer,’” she countered.

The rhino had the decency to look contrite for a moment but quickly waved a massive grey hoof in dismissal.

“You’re different, Hopps. You solved that Nighthowler shit, and that makes you senior enough for us,” he explained, a touch too confident.

“Nick solved just as much of that as I did. Doesn’t that make him just as ‘senior?’” she countered.

Irritation played across McHorn’s face just about as clearly as it could. Apparently, Nick was not privy to such magnificent heights of seniority.

“Are ya coming or not, Hopps?” he retorted, exasperated.

“Nick has just as much right to being invited as I do. Why don’t you want him along? He isn’t so bad, once you get past the teasing.” 

The rhino sneered, entirely unconvinced. Wordlessly, he turned back to Snarlov and nodded towards the gym. Snarlov nodded back, the pair ambling carelessly away from Judy without so much as a second glance. 

She watched them leave with a healthy mixture of anger and confusion before turning back to the door. 

_ Why don’t they want Nick along? He’s a friendly new officer who made everyone laugh this morning. Has he already messed with McHorn or something? _

_ ... _

_ No, I’ve been with him almost all day. _

It struck her as she was walking down the front steps. Her ears drooped instinctively.

_ It’s because he’s a fox, isn’t it? _

Of course. How could she not see it? She’d been bullied and disparaged and a whole host of other things because of her size and species by a fair portion of the other officers. A rabbit police officer was seen as nothing more than a joke. With the stereotypes foxes were stuck with, Nick would be lucky to even be left alone. Who knows what he had to endure at the academy?

She groaned, running a paw down her face.

_ Dumb bunny. I should have tried to change McHorn’s mind about Nick before he arrived. At least that way he’d have a little more of a reputation before getting thrown into the deep end. Crackers. _

_ I’m sorry, Nick. This is gonna be a rough time for both of us at first, isn’t it? _

The lapine’s ears perked again as her resolve hardened, the background sounds of the city quieting in their intensity.

_ We’ll do it together. I know we can. _

* * *

_ How much do you wanna bet that somebody screwed with your locker while you were gone? _

Nick hummed to himself as he dried himself off, breaking the stony silence of the room. Although the locker room was empty, something about being so vulnerable at night was unsettling. Noise helped fill the gap. Strolling back towards his locker, he found that somebody had, in fact, screwed with his locker.

The lock on the front was almost entirely crushed. A mammal with serious heft had taken a sizable swing at the lock, yet dexterously left the locker itself almost entirely untouched. Obviously, the culprit had already left.

_ Pay up, Slick. Maybe I really should “miraculously find” a few of their clothes. _ He paused, then shook his head. _ Don’t sink to their level, and don’t let them see that they’re getting to you. You know the routine. Please, please tell me they didn’t take anything. _

Tentatively, he opened the locker. To his relief and slight surprise, nothing at all had been moved. Only the lock had been crushed. The message clicked almost immediately for him.

_ You’re a fox. You don’t get secrets or privacy. This is the ZPD’s turf, not some shifty fox’s, and it’s going to stay that way. _

Nick took the bag out in a practiced motion before fishing around inside for the brush. 

_ Whatever. Reporting this wouldn’t make you any friends, much less achieve anything. Best to just ignore it. _

Dragging the instrument out of the bag, he set to work brushing his arms and legs first. The repeated action was calming, in a kind of primitive way. Grooming himself was a rare opportunity to relax. His mind wandered.

_ Pretty great for a first day. Catching good ol’ Hundred-Yard-Dash was nice, and being with Fluff was the best, so you shouldn’t let the rest of it get to you. _

_ ...Ugh. Too optimistic. You need to cut back on the Carrots. _

Eyes closing as he shifted to his back, the tod felt the tension from the day seep off. Although the angle was far from perfect, the smoothness of the brush was soothing. The fox’s head was next; he brushed through it patiently, enjoying the feeling of the bristles against the base of his ears.

_ You should visit Mom again soon. She could always use the company, and you haven’t gotten a chance to see her in-person since before the academy. Is she still getting the money you’ve been sending her? _

Lastly, he cycled methodically between chest and tail. Brushing his two favorite areas effectively chased away the last of his stress, and a powerful feeling of tiredness swept over his figure.

_ Next time, you should start practicing a little earlier. It’s gonna be a long walk home, so everybody’s favorite fox won’t get much sleep. _

Changing into a spare Pawaiian shirt and athletic shorts, (Judy would’ve scolded him for his “unique” fashion choices, but he knew she loved it) the vulpine picked up his gym bag and made his way back through the gym to the front of the precinct.

As he stepped into the atrium, he noted the way the light seemed artificial at this time of night. Just a touch too bright. The fake grass-styled railings around the precinct didn’t help, but the lobby still felt comfortable, if manufactured. 

_ Is that a bad thing, though? Eh. Maybe. How do the perps feel when they’re dragged through here? Not that you would know, of course. _

A charcoal grey paw interrupted his musing, just as he was leaving. Snapping out of his thoughts, the fox turned to see Officer Wolfard waving him down. The wolf jogged languidly up to address him, his posture loose.

Grinning affably, the lupine officer extended a paw in greeting. Nick returned the grin before extending a paw of his own. They shook.

"Hey, it's Wilde, right?" he ventured. The fox paused — the unexpected friendliness was a nice change of pace, but that didn’t mean it was real.

_ Here we go. _

"Yeah. Nick Wilde. I'm guessing my reputation precedes me?" the vulpine replied warily, his ears perked.

_ Starting off with a little probing humor. Sharp, Wilde. Maybe you haven't lost your hustler powers just yet. _

Wolfard's grin turned wry. "You could say that. Hearing about you standing up to the chief for Hopps was a helluva first impression. I'm Ray Wolfard, by the way, but you can call me Ray." 

Asking to be on a first-name basis was a promising sign. Maybe he was genuine.

The tod waved a paw dismissively. 

"Someone had to stick up for her. Chief Buffalo Butt," he drawled the nickname, "wasn't exactly playing fair."

The lupine shrugged noncommittally. "Chief's good at what he does, fair or not. I think he knows that he mistreated Hopps. Nice mammal, at heart, but stubborn as all hell." he admitted.

Ray paused. His next words were tinged with a healthy dose of shame, and his tail hung lower. "...'sides, none of us were helping her either. At the time, nobody was keen on a rabbit being a police officer, no matter how hard she worked. That Bellwether case was her big break."

Nick nodded, trying to gauge the wolf's intent. A plan came to him.

"She would have found a way. That bunny is _ unstoppable. _” the fox prodded. Learning how the wolf felt about another relatively small officer would give him more insight into his thoughts on the fox.

“I know, right?” the wolf exclaimed, to the fox's slight surprise.

A knowing smile gripped both officers. Judy’s (sometimes ridiculous) level of heroics and dedication was a sort of legend around the academy. Occasionally, another cadet had worked up the nerve to ask the vulpine a question along the lines of “Did Judy and you really blow up a rusting train full of toxic chemicals by playing chicken with _ another train?? _” or something similar. Honestly answering their questions delighted the fox.

_ Yes. Yes, we did. _

“She’s like the mascot now. Most of us officers have warmed up to her, and Clawhauser swears up-n-down she’s second only to Gazelle.” Wolfard continued, tail wagging once more.

The tod’s eyes widened playfully. “That’s the highest praise an officer can get from Benji! Score one for rabbits,” he chuckled. 

_ It’s nice to see ya winning, Carrots. You deserve it. _

Something clicked, and the fox’s laughter died swiftly. “Wait, most? Is she still getting sidelined by somebody?” he probed. It didn't sit right with him that Judy might _still_ be getting underestimated, despite both the Nighthowler incident and how hard she worked. Why couldn't they see how dedicated she was? 

Ray’s expression shifted to one of friendly concern, his paw moving to grip the back of his head.

“...Yeah. A few of the bigger mammals — predator and prey — think she’s way too headstrong. I mean, sometimes she goes overboard and it screws her over, but everyone makes mistakes. It doesn’t bother me too much. Shit happens,” he replied carefully. The next statement was even more considered. “It’s why you’re a perfect partner for her. From what I’ve seen, ya tend to balance her out a little, pal.” 

Pleased by the wolf’s assessment of him, Nick took a moment to reflect on Ray’s words.

_ Carrots is… _ enthusiastic _ , but that’s just how she is. It makes her a good cop, and you look up to her for it. Everyone makes mistakes. You know that more than anyone. _

Again, he shook his paw dismissively. “Carrots,” the wolf’s eyes and ears perked at the nickname, and Nick winced internally, “knows what she’s doing. I may be the world’s finest fox cop — please hold your applause — but she’s got the brains and brawn,” he praised, his tail wagging gently.

A smirk found its way onto Ray’s muzzle. “Well, I heard from ‘Carrots’ that a certain foxy officer is a monster at poker. A bunch of us guys are playing some tomorrow night at my place. Ya think ya can come?” he asked hopefully.

The fox considered his options.

_ Ray seems nice enough. Doesn’t sound like the type to trap me, but if there’s a plan he’s probably not in on it. Too nice. Your safest answer is ‘no’ — a regretful refusal, and your cover story is… you have prior engagements with a certain fennec fox who does not like to be kept waiting. _

Inwardly, he shook his head. 

_ You’re a cop now, genius. Maybe you should go. It’d be smart to start making connections. Carrots might be there, too. ‘Try Everything,’ right? Still, bring your taser in case they decide to break out the free muzzles. _

Nick paused before mirroring the lupine’s smirk, laying on the charm. “I guess I have the time to show you guys real talent. If I have to,” he answered, finishing the statement with a wink. Mentally, the tod’s inner cynic chastised him lightly.

_ Good luck, Slick. _

His smirk holding strong, Wolfard returned the wink. “Will you? We have some talent too. I’ll see you there, pal.” he retorted, turning back to the door. They quickly exchanged goodbyes, Ray giving one last friendly look at Nick — a look laced with playful challenge — before leaving. Following suit, the fox began the long trek home, taking in the day one more time. He descended the steps feeling much more at ease. Ambient noise from the city hummed lowly in the background, framing his thoughts.

_ You did well, Wilde. Ray’s seems like a trustworthy mammal, and if you're lucky you can draw in the others. Use that foxy charisma. If Carrots can do it, so can you. _

He paused.

_ Where do you think she lives? ...Some dinky apartment is a safe bet. Oh, Carrots, both of us know you can do better than that. _

_ ... _

_ Home first. Carrots' _ _ probably sad living situation later. _

The fox's eyes closed for a moment, trying to recall his mental map of the city. Just behind him stood Precinct One, in the heart of Downtown. Getting to the Docks would take some time, as it did that morning. The vulpine hoped to optimize his route a little more before the first week of his new life was over.

Reaching a decision on his path back, Nick began strolling confidently away from the precinct, thoughts finally in order.

He passed a number of vibrant buildings in Downtown, seeing them in a new light. Where before the tod would've kept his distance from anything or anybody that didn't seem profitable, he found himself wanting to explore what once was seemingly worthless a little bit more. Whether it was a side effect of being around Judy or his new job, Nick wasn't sure. Probably both. 

Most of the rest of his journey was relatively silent, inwardly. The exhaustion of his first day was starting to hit the vulpine. Fox paws and tail dragged ever-so-slightly, and the lengthy walk back certainly didn't help. Public transit existed from near Precinct One to near his destination, but Nick preferred the walk — it was a good excuse to clear his head before sleeping, and going by paw was much quieter.

Eventually, he had reached the threshold for the Docks, an area of Zootopia southwest of Sahara Square, and slightly north of Outback Island. Large warehouses of varying purpose were spread almost carelessly across the district, acting as obvious signs of unexpected expansion in earlier years. The area as a whole felt aged, marred by rusting steel and rotting wood. It was a perfect home for mammals who wanted to stay hidden.

Nonetheless, Nick moved steadily onwards towards the southern edge of the Docks. Offhandedly, the tod noted fresh graffiti on some of the abandoned warehouses, but stopped as he came to a large group of the art on one of the newer buildings. Impromptu art pieces, gang symbols, and faded names seemed to battle for dominance on the wall, but there was no clear winner. The fox internally listed each emblem and name with practiced ease.

_ Kay’s Nines, a predator-only group led by female coyote Kay Afton. Their mark is a stylized number nine, operates mostly down here at the Docks. Wonder what they’re doing these days? _

He looked a little lower, ignoring the cruder drawings.

_ Nostra, mixed predator/prey. Led by… James Glire, a prickly dormouse. Their symbol is a detailed red letter “N,” operates primarily in the Canal District. What are they doing all the way down here? _

The vulpine’s gaze shifted leftward towards a golden caricature of a wheel, with the letter “F” displayed prominently in the center.

_ That’s… Huh. Have you seen that symbol before? It’s too... _ neat _ to be some random kit’s drawing, but there isn’t any group you know of that uses it. What happened to “I know everybody?” _

Racking his mind for the answer, Nick soon had to accept that he had no idea what the wheel meant.

Troubled slightly by the unfamiliar symbol, the tod finally wrenched his attention away from the wall, continuing even further southward. He turned back one more time to get another look at the image, but shook his head dismissively. Getting home was more important.

The bridge to Outback Island loomed in the distance, and soon his destination was in sight: an enormous warehouse situated very nearly under the bridge. It looked to be one of the oldest buildings in the district. He jogged up to it, draining the remainder of his energy.

The front door was almost entirely boarded off, with jagged cracks and fractures splayed haphazardly across the light-brown wood. A cynic might describe some of the bigger holes as entrances. Above, in peeling paint, one could barely make out the remains of what might have been a title — "W--d T-m-s," in once-vibrant orange and gold. The roof looked damp, with the building as a whole projecting an air of abandonment. 

All that was missing was the carrot-patterned welcome mat.

Nick looked up at the structure appraisingly, spreading his arms in mock wonder. Mentally, he recited one of his favorite pithy sayings.

_ Home sweet home. _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know Wild Times does actually exist in the Zootopia universe, but shhhh I thought this idea was more fun.


	3. Four of Diamonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick navigates through his home and dreams of a field. One day down, and day two begins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have yet to conquer Zootopia from Disney. 
> 
> This is the last of the "set-up" chapters, and chapter four onward will be almost exclusively plot-driven. Stick with me a little longer!
> 
> Nick's dreams are more symbolic than prophetic, by the way. No supernatural elements here.

* * *

1955 Cypress Grove Lane — the address on his tax forms, among other ID — was more smoke and mirrors, of course. It had been another hustle, meant to mislead anybody who wanted a place to find him. Nick didn’t have any idea what had happened to the house he’d grown up in as a kit; after the Junior Ranger Scouts ordeal, his relationships with his mother and others had depressively spiraled. Eventually, the fox had begun small-time hustles at 12, leaving his mother and home soon afterward. It wasn’t quite a clean break.

_ Though you’re better than that now, Wilde. You have a great partner, you fixed your relationship with your mother, and you have a job you can be proud of. What else do you need? _

He took another look at the warehouse, its walls crumbling like a kit's sandcastle against the tide.

_ Okaaaaaaaay, so maybe a few things_ _are a work-in-progress. _

Nonetheless, Nick doggedly sauntered forward, noting that some of the top boards on the door had splintered off entirely. Slipping past the boards covering the door in a practiced motion, (his old gym bag hitched for a moment, as usual) the fox took in his surroundings.

Internally, the building was just as vast as it appeared from the outside, glass on the rooftop casting light on just about the whole of the area. Classic carnival attractions were spread evenly throughout the inner section, with the more creative activities surrounding them like a strange mix between county fair and arcade. A wooden roller coaster loomed in the background, and a similarly wooden running track ringed the rest of the expanse. He didn’t know the name for either — the labels were too muddy. All of it contributed to his favorite fact about where he lived: The warehouse was an amusement park.

An _ abandoned _amusement park.

Dilapidation was still evident all through the park (both the roller coaster and the track had significant portions missing, which probably wouldn’t make riding them very fun, in his opinion) but it still held a sort of antiquated charm. Part of the reason Nick hadn’t changed locations was that living here was flat-out interesting_. _

The major reason he didn’t move, however, was the near-perfect anonymity living in the indoor park provided him. Firstly, a mammal would have to come into a nearly-unmarked condemned warehouse at the edge of the Docks — unlikely, unless intrepid teens were actively looking for trouble — then navigate to exactly where the fox had hidden his possessions. He’d lived under a bridge (there was a troll joke in there _somewhere _) for a fair part of his life, but ended up moving to the warehouse for the relative security.

_ On that thought, you should probably get to bed. It’s late/early, and you know Carrots is going to be just as bright-eyed as she was today. Rabbits, right? _

Nick started his walk over to the right side of the park, eyes rolling. He didn’t have any idea how Judy had so much energy in the mornings. Offhandedly, he started humming a small tune.

Declining carnival attractions seemed to leer at the fox as he passed, the paint painfully peeling off of the stylized heads of all different types of mammals. Wooden booths which once held a playful air seemed eerily empty, the games themselves having long been removed or broken. Thin alleyways formed by the areas between each game were just enough for a small mammal to hide in, and the vulpine could almost hear what could’ve been the music, had the park still been operational. He tried to match his hum to a carnivalesque tune. It didn’t come out well.

Nonetheless, Nick wouldn’t quite call the place _creepy_. Sure, the rotting wood and empty space were daunting, but there wasn’t anything inherently threatening about either of those things. In contrast to Cliffside, with its sterile plastic and cold steel, the once wildly-colored booths and looming roller coaster were very nearly fun — it felt like a place completely lost to time. Surreal, perhaps, but not really that threatening. Realistically, the worst thing the fox had to worry about was whether the glass up top would collapse on him one day. He tried not to think about that, though.

_ How are you gonna feel when you have to leave this place? _

_ … _

_ Accomplished. This is the last part of “Slick Nick” left, and it’s going to stay that way. Assuming you can get enough money scraped together soon, nobody has to know about home sweet home. Especially not Carrots. _

The fox’s stride hitched for a moment, but he quickly shook his head, continuing to stroll towards the edge of the warehouse.

_ Do you know what she’d do if she found out you were living here? She’d be angry, pitying. She wouldn’t stop trying to help, and she has enough to deal with already. News flash, Carrots, I’m doing just fine. Don’t worry that adorable little head of y—_

A flash of dull red at the edge of Nick’s vision cut across his thoughts. Turning, he took in the nearest booth; a crude wooden pawpsicle hung above it, and space for freezers in the back sat empty. A knowing smile broke across the vulpine’s face as he passed it. 

_ It wasn’t the most profitable, but it was one of the safest schemes. “$200 a day” was a little misleading, but be glad you saw Fin doing it this morning. That little slice of genius _must _live on. _

…

_ You can’t keep thinking like that. Cop, remember? C - O - P. Legal genius only. You’ll get used to it, but at least try to help it along. _

Flecks of guilt from keeping the remnants of his old life a secret clawed at the edge of his conscience, but the fox shoved them down with the experience of a mammal used to bottling up their emotions.

At last, a faded yellow and violet banner came into view as Nick turned a corner; “N-cturnal -aze” was all the fox could make out, with a square-ish entrance sitting below. Patchwork purple fabric was hung just around the entrance, like a fresh bruise against the dark wood of the walls.

Another trademark smile flashed across the fox’s face. He’d been inside the night before, ensuring that none of his possessions had been taken, but it was nice to be back in a place where he felt relatively safe — even if it wasn’t quite perfect. Pleased, Nick navigated the interior of the maze with knowing precision, (left-right-right-left-right) coming to a small clearing.

_ Finally. _

Originally, the open space would’ve acted as a checkpoint for maze-goers; a place to reorient themselves if they were lost. Nick occasionally thought it was appropriate he lived here.

Scattered tears in the “roof” of the fabric let a fair amount of ambient light in, giving the area a soft glow. They felt like stars. In one corner, a surprisingly clean white mattress and matching pillow sat in an ocean of violet. Cardboard boxes filled with random knick-knacks, supplies, and hygienics rested at the end. Further back were pillar-like prize racks holding clothes of varying types and purposes — sharp dress blues, disarming Pawaiian tees, formal suits, and so on — in no clear pattern. Nick assured himself there was one. A single fun-house mirror stood in the other corner, the only normal one of the bunch.

It felt like home, almost.

The fox plodded over to the foot of the makeshift bed, lazily depositing his bag before grabbing a toothbrush and other nightly items. Time seemed to blur, one moment shifting into the next like a broken hourglass as the ragged fox ambled almost aimlessly around the area. Darkness ate at the corners of his vision. At some point, Nick unpacked his bag — at another, he positioned his sleep mask just above his eyes. The string was fraying, but he wasn’t sure if he was going to replace it. It had mostly outlived its usefulness.

At last, Nick ditched his Pawaiian shirt and shorts in favor of plain boxers, preferring the open air on his fur. Overwhelmingly tired, the vulpine made his way to the corner of the room, landing on the mattress with a pleasant _ thump_. He briefly adjusted his pillow as he sank into a drowsy sub-sleep, sliding the black mask over his muzzle.

_ One day down. _

He began to dream.

* * *

_ There was a field — large, grassy, and that beautiful shade of mature-crop-tan. A fox stood in the middle of the expanse, a violet sky framing the low-hanging sun. His eyes were closed, but a gentle wind blew across his fur. It drew shapes on his muzzle, river-like in one moment to lake-ish in the next, never giving in to the same pattern — like snowflakes. _

_ His eyes opened slowly, lazily. The air felt wonderful, just the right temperature for comfort. The fox didn’t care to look around. If he had, he would’ve seen small hills scattered across the landscape, like burial mounds. _

_ Unconcerned with his surroundings, the fox began to walk. It didn’t matter what was around him, or ahead of him. Only the fact there was a “forwards” at all. Occasionally, he would nearly trip over something in the field, but he didn’t let it get to him. He didn’t even bother to look at what it was. Just an obstacle. _

_ Subdued yelling could be heard off in the distance, but it was too quiet to let the fox know whether it was male or female. Not that it mattered. The pitch and frequency didn’t seem to shift, even as he moved. What he thought might’ve been a scream broke through, once or twice. _

_ After what might have been miles of unchanging scenery, he tripped again on something bigger. Something significant. He tried to make out what it was, but the more he stared at it the more it seemed to come apart under the low glow of the sun, like a bizarre trick of the light. It was different, and that scared him. Maybe it was blue. _

_ The air seemed to turn sour, and the once-soft grass around him had become angular and oppressive in the way it surrounded the fox. His posture tensed. This was wrong, too different, too strange. He felt… maladjusted? That was wrong, as well. _

_ Suddenly, the object shifted. _

Nick woke up in what could charitably be described as undisguised panic, his breathing staying uneven with a paw moving to his heart. It was hammering, but none of it felt like a panic attack. Just the cold, almost otherworldly sensation of being ripped away from something important. Light filtered down gently from above.

Trying to recall his dream, the fox shook his head. It flowed through his grasp like water, fluid and wispy. Something about a field? He tried to kickstart his mind into working again, drowsiness from waking up still obvious in his eyes. 

_ Time to wake up, Slick. You have to go do foxy cop things. In 3… 2… 1… now. Okay, let’s try that again… nnnnnnow. Now. _

Nick dragged himself out of bed, still trying to fully wake up. Everything felt bleary, his vision yet to fully focus. Still, he quickly got dressed and ready for day two. As he was just about ready to leave, he turned back to the small clearing, determination spreading across his features.

_ You can do this. Just a few more months and finally you’re gonna be free from all this. _

He turned himself back away from his bed, exiting from the maze. The same carnival attractions stood stoically as he passed, the warehouse itself almost distressingly silent. Nick’s ear twitched once.

_ Your mother won’t know, the ZPD won’t know, and Carrots won’t know. Finnick knows, but he won't snitch. Stop worrying. _

Soon he was slipping past the entrance in the same practiced fashion as yesterday, tail flicking as it crossed the threshold. 

* * *

Nick spied Judy in front of the precinct as he approached, the orange-ish glow of the early morning sun reflecting pleasantly across the glossed dark blue of her body armor, like stained glass. She sat on the edge of the front stairs, earbuds in, and her head bobbed subtly to what was doubtlessly a Gazelle single. She seemed… content. A toothy smile broke out on his face.

_ She waited for you. _

It was a such a simple gesture, but a wonderful sensation of warmth filled his chest. She cared enough to wait. There was fatigue in his eyes and a drag on his feet, but something about being waited for by his partner made him stand a little straighter. 

_ Thanks, Carrots. _

Judy looked up at him as he approached, returning the grin. “Had to make sure you were coming back, Nick. Can’t let the ZPD’s first fox off that easy.” she teased lightly, removing an earbud.

Grateful, Nick playfully shot her with a finger gun. “Gonna be hard to get rid of me, Carrots. Trust me, I know," he teased back.

_ You have no idea. _

There was a moment of silence as rabbit and fox couldn’t help but maintain a dopey smile at one another before the rabbit sat up. She wordlessly gestured towards the building as if she was a chauffeur, eyes mockingly half-lidded, and they walked in side by side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Again, any and all criticism/praise is welcome. Still hoping to improve before the meat of the story occurs.
> 
> Probably going to be a long chapter next time, so it'll be awhile. Writing is hard.


	4. Five of Diamonds

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick and Judy get a new missing mammal case: an eccentric wealthy mammal has disappeared. It gives Nick an opportunity to start opening up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long chapter! Just over 5000 words, actually. Sorta long A/N ahead, so maybe skip if you don't like the voice in your head that reads these out.
> 
> Apologies for taking so long to update. Life has been hectic lately, but that isn't really an excuse. I'm not going to promise consistent or quality uploads, as I have a feeling I can't provide either. Thank you all for your patience.
> 
> Not super proud of this chapter, but it isn't awful. The prose feels a little clunky and I'm worried that the occasional joke thrown in is working against the tone instead of lightening the angst. Tell me in the comments, I guess.
> 
> I PROMISE that Nick will start winning within the next few chapters. I know it feels like an anxiety-fest right now, but just give me a little more time. I like starting my characters in a low spot so there's obvious growth over the course of the story, and the rest of the story won't all be this pity party for Nick.
> 
> I still don't own Zootopia, by the way. In case any of you were curious :]

Mornings felt a little like clockwork, at this point; it was always the same routine. First, Nick would see Judy waiting patiently at the steps, and a broad grin would split his face. Second, she'd reciprocate the grin, and third, they'd stride into the precinct side-by-side. Two weeks had passed like sand spilling out of a broken hourglass, each day cycling into the next seemingly effortlessly. Today was no different.

Nick, sunglasses firmly in place, ignored the mixed looks he received as the door to the precinct shut firmly behind him. There weren’t nearly as many stares — considering or suspicious — as there had been since his first few days, but the fox had a feeling they wouldn’t ever quite stop. 

Judy either didn’t notice or didn’t acknowledge the occasional sidelong glance in the pair’s direction, instead engaging in an eager greeting with Clawhauser at the front desk. Hesitantly, Nick joined the exchange with a slick wave of his own. The cheetah seemed to perk up at that, a joyful smile gracing his soft features. Not for the first time, Nick noted that something about the cheetah’s personality was strikingly genuine; the honesty Clawhauser conveyed with just about everything he did was something Nick quietly admired.

_ Can always count on Benji. He’s the only mammal you know that can out-cheer Carrots, and that’s saying something. Remember the Gazelle concert? _

The grin he wore widened at that, his mind making its way to the memory as he approached the desk. He could almost hear the pounding music and wailing crowd.

_ Still can’t believe she got you Gazelle tickets to celebrate the first week as partners, and definitely still can’t believe she got you to dance. When was the last time you danced?! _

“Good morning, Ben!” Judy called out enthusiastically, tail wiggling slightly. Nick eyed it with amusement.

"Hey, you two! Doing okay?” the cheetah said, his own tail lazily bobbing back and forth as they approached.

There was a certain unwavering level of almost motherly concern to his tone; out of everyone in the precinct, Clawhauser seemed the most supportive of the two smallest officers. Nick wasn't sure if his backing came from a dedication to Judy or just natural enthusiasm. 

_ Probably both. _

Judy hummed pleasantly in affirmation, both of the diminutive officers nodding in almost comical synchronicity. 

"Yeah. Been a good first few weeks. How about you, Benji?" Nick deflected. Although the concern was more than appreciated, talking about his personal life was one of the things Nick still tried to avoid.

“Great! Things have been so calm lately.” 

Judy nodded knowingly, replying with something Nick didn’t quite hear. His mind was elsewhere, as it had been with increasing frequency over the last few weeks.

_ How _ have _ the last two weeks been for you? _

_ … _

_ Fine. It’s been fine. Card games with Wolfard and some of the others went well, and you even exchanged a few tricks. Nobody’s screwed with you since destroying your lock, and just because a quarter of the station won’t talk to you doesn’t mean you’re doing a poor job as a cop. Keep it together. Whenever you get your next big case, everything’s going to turn out just _ fine _ for ol’ foxy. _

“What do you think, Nick?” Judy suddenly said, cleaving across his train of thought. The fox in question froze for a moment, having missed the conversation entirely. However, Nicholas Wilde was nothing if not an adept performer under pressure.

“I think we should head to roll call if we don’t want to be late, Carrots,” he said smoothly, flicking his eyes between the rabbit and cheetah to gauge their reactions. 

Fortunately, neither seemed to notice his lack of attention; Ben nodded thoughtfully. “Alright, you two. I’ll see you later!”

After a quick goodbye and a detour for coffee, Judy and Nick finally approached the door to the bullpen. Muffled bouts of laughter came from inside.

“Ready to make the world a better place?” Judy smiled, extending her paw for a light fist-bump. 

“Pretty much born ready,” Nick replied easily, slipping into the now-daily routine of raising his own paw in return.

Walking into roll call in the mornings still felt a little odd for him, but there was a glorious sense of purpose to it. Having a place where Nick was expected to be and rewarded for being was something he quietly treasured about being a cop, despite his grousing about the early morning. As Judy opened the door, he noted this morning’s roll call was no different than the last week’s: loud, rambunctious, and filled with an unexpected playfulness. The looks were still there, but most officers seemed too caught up in watching an arm-wrestling match or three. It was refreshing.

The pair ambled towards the front, taking their front-row seat in a practiced display of teamwork: Judy would scrabble her way into the seat like a miniature mountaineer, and Nick would come up second, given a helping paw from the rabbit. Although the seat had been raised so both officers could sit in it and _ see _ the Chief, the total height of the chair hadn’t changed; having useful height accommodations for the only two… _ vertically challenged _ officers was impractical, Nick surmised. Didn’t make it any less annoying.

“Think we’re getting parking duty again today, Carrots?” Nick drawled as he pulled himself into the seat, fatigue just barely tinting his voice. Mornings had not been kind to the fox, but the long walk in and coffee helped. 

_ Bet she’s gonna say no. _

“Probably not!” 

_ Close enough. _

Judy looked up at him expectantly. “We’re gonna get something good this time, Nick! I know it,” she tried to whisper, ears standing to attention. Just about everything in her posture, from the idly swinging paws to the unshakable grin she wore, radiated with an eagerness Nick had never seen another mammal match. It was heartwarming. Next to her, McHorn gave the pair an unreadable expression. Both of them ignored it.

Despite her enthusiasm, Nick rolled his eyes. “You said that the last few days, too. I think whichever radio station those satellite dishes you have,” — he pointed to her ears at this, to which she huffed lightly — “are tuned into is giving you bad info.”

The beginning of her indignant reply was cut off by the sound of a nearby door slamming open. Chief Bogo entered the room as he always did: swiftly, uncaringly, and attempting in vain to quiet the room. Higgins, who had missed his usual “Atten-hut!” cue, was given a passing snort of what might have been disapproval.

_ When is it ever _ not _ disapproval? _

"Alright! You know the drill. Quiet!" he roared, having reached the lectern. Next to the fox, Judy adopted the amused look of a mammal who knew what was coming next and was powerless to stop it.

"Charming as ever, Chief!" Nick retorted, grinning widely.

Laughter and grudging looks pervaded the bullpen as Bogo glared wordlessly at the beaming fox, before he turned his attention back to the folder in his hooves. The almost-daily tit-for-tat the cape buffalo and vulpine had going was quickly becoming one of Nick's favorite parts of the day — it was grounding, in a way. Bogo seemed to tolerate the banter, but many officers suspected he secretly enjoyed it just as much. Not that anyone would ever, _ ever _be able to confirm it.

The mix of chuckling and desk-pounding that had filled the room fell silent after another second or so, patiently awaiting the morning's assignments. There was always a sense of familiar apprehension before the day's tasks were doled out; almost every day was a different experience, for better or worse.

Bogo sighed, adjusting his papers slightly before speaking. "Assignments! Officers Grizzoli, Delgato. Jewelry theft in Savanna Central."

Nick noted that Judy's expression fell a little at that announcement. Jewelry theft was at the very least usually interesting, and chasing down the culprit was something she relished; it didn't surprise him that Grizzoli and Delgato gave one another a knowing grin as they walked to the lectern, grabbing the case file with almost tangible glee.

Bogo shifted his papers again before looking up. "Wilde! Hopps! We've got a missing mammal right in the middle of Downtown. Find him." 

Surprise flashed over both officers' faces — missing mammal cases were notoriously iffy, if the Nighthowler incident had proved anything. Sometimes they wrapped up nicely in about an hour, or sometimes… they were the Nighthowler incident. A healthy mix of excited and apprehensive, both Judy and Nick hopped down from the chair to grab the case file, heading towards the back door. Just before the rabbit reached for the door handle, Wolfard gave the fox a subtle thumbs-up. Nick returned it, mouthing "thanks" before following close behind Judy.

The door shut with a reverberating _ thud _, Bogo’s baritone cutting out just in time for Nick and Judy to exchange an animated look; the rabbit made a small fist pump gesture before starting their walk to the motor pool, a delighted bounce in her stride. "I knew it! I told you, I knew it!" she whooped, holding her fist out to the fox.

Nick, tail wagging, returned the second fist-bump for the day with an exaggerated sigh, trying to keep his own elation in check.

_ First big case. You can do this, fox-cop. _

"Fine. You were right. What's that make the score, nine to one? Eight to one?" he conceded mockingly.

Judy rolled her eyes, the hop in her stride snagging for a moment. "C'mon! This is going to be our first case that isn't street racers, standard patrol or parking duty. It's important."

"So eight to one, then." 

"Nick," she replied, deadpan.

"Okay, okay. I'm excited too. You revealed my grand web of lies.Happy?”

_ Bet she’s gonna say yes. _

“You betcha!” she chirped merrily.

_ You are really, really bad at this, Wilde. _

A silence fell over the pair, and Nick could feel the previous mirth begin draining away. Thoughts beginning to shift, he felt a tinge of anxiety start gnawing at the edge of his mind; this _ was _important, wasn’t it?

_ This might be your only opportunity to prove that you’re no longer Slick Nick. It’s going to color the rest of your maybe-short career, and it’s absolutely going to affect what Carrots thinks of you. Screwing this up will mean your coworkers were right, and you’re gonna have to work at least twice as hard for cases in the future. _

His tail stopped its sway, and almost every one of his muscles tensed.

_ Not so fine anymore, huh, Slick? _

“You okay?” Judy quietly prodded, his silence beginning to worry her. They’d almost reached the motor pool during his introspection, the rising sun giving the lobby a gentle orange glow. Dragged from his thoughts, Nick averted his eyes from the bunny, calm mask firmly in place.

“Of course. Just… tired, Carrots. I’m fine.”

She studied his expression for a moment before her face fell a little, completely losing the bounce in her step. 

_ Ouch. That transparent, huh? Weren’t you supposed to be good at lying? _

A near-perfect mask of indifference stayed on his muzzle, but lines of guilt were beginning to crease the edges. The only sounds were a pair of small footsteps as the rabbit and fox entered the motor pool in an off-putting, banter-less quiet. Every few seconds or so, as the patrol car came nearer, Judy would glance at the fox, clear worry plaguing her features. It was an unsettling break from their usual rapport, and Nick had a not-so-subtle feeling she was wrestling with whether or not to prod him further.

At last, as Judy reached to get into the car, Nick let out a long breath. “Fine. I’m a little…” — he paused, trying to find a word that wouldn’t worry her further — “hesitant, I guess. I—” 

_ don’t know if I’m ready —_

“feel like this might go bad. First big case and all. You know me, always the pessimist,” he laughed. It sounded hollow and more than a little fake to his ears, but a characteristic optimism crowded her face once again. He didn't catch the mild concern embedded in her eyes.

_ You’ll have to tell her eventually. _

“Nick, don’t worry! We set a record for parking duty earlier this _ week _, and we’ve solved Missing Mammal cases since before you were an officer. We’ll be fi— better than fine, we’ll be great. I know it,” she reassured.

_ “I just feel like maybe I can’t do this.” Say it. It’d be easy, and you know she’d help you. She _ wants _ to help you. _

“I jus— I mean, yeah, you’re right. You’ve got the world’s most handsome fox as a partner; how could things possibly go wrong?” he attempted to tease. It felt weak, and his ear twitched once. The smile didn’t reach his eyes, but she returned it regardless.

“Uh-huh.” She started the car, rolling her eyes. “So, where to?”

_ Maybe next time. _

The residue from keeping his doubts bottled up and away from his partner felt strangely like liquid medicine on his tongue, bitter and acrid. His ears pinned back. Nonetheless, Nick gently opened the case file and read the name, mouthing it quietly. He groaned, barely-disguised contempt thick in his voice as he began to speak. “Marvin Lychis. Of course it’s this guy. Start the car, I’ll give you directions to his place.”

She gave him a curious look as she turned the keys, surprised by the distaste curling his words. “Any leads? Witnesses? Evidence?”

“Nope,” he grumbled, popping the “p”.

_ Why did it have to be him? _

“Last known sighting was Lychis walking into his house, a few days back. No-one has seen him since, and he’s missed a bunch of meetings at the workplace. Turn left here.” A considering frown worked its way onto his muzzle; cases like these were likely to be either incredibly simple or stupidly confusing. Knowing the fox's luck, it would probably be the latter. Lingering anxiety festered directly in the pit of Nick’s stomach.

Undeterred by the lack of info, Judy made the turn. Nick’s breadth of knowledge about the city’s layout and occupants was something that secretly never stopped surprising her.

The tod paused before speaking again, trying to wrestle the discontent from his voice. “Before you ask, yes, I do know him. I know— actually, you know the next line. Anyways, he’s a — turn right up ahead — wealthy hyena who works to manufacture arms outside of Zootopia. I think this is his summer home, which is every bit as dumb as it sounds. Met him once at a ball as part of a perfectly almost-legal hustle; not a great mammal, let me tell you. Greedy, incompetent, stuck up — everything a mammal could ask for in a stereotypical wealthy mammal, top hat and all. Keep going straight,” he complained, peering out the front window.

She frowned at that, but kept her eyes on the road. “Sounds like he might have some enemies. Any ideas, partner?” 

A dull thrill shot through him at the use of the word “partner,” as it had since the first time she’d used it. Something about it felt deeply _ right _.

Nick shook his head. “Too broad, if anything did happen to him. Not a whole lot of fans. One more right.”

Making the turn revealed what appeared to be the unholy matrimony of sleek modern architecture and rustic beach cabin. In the middle of Downtown. Judy visibly winced, paws that were previously idly drumming on the steering wheel freezing in place. It fit every definition of the word garish, spitting in the face of even basic color theory; reds and yellows clashed violently with purple and indigo.

“And you thought my Pawaiian shirts were bad.” Nick joked halfheartedly. Unlike Judy, Nick had the pleasure of averting his eyes.

There was a moment of silence, likely out of respect for the death of beauty itself.

“It’s definitely… _ unique. _Is the inside any better?” she asked wearily, parking nearby. 

Nick returned her question with a deadpan stare, jumping gracefully to the street below. “How am I supposed to know? Although, if I had to guess, I’d say it’s probably something equally cartoon-rich-mammal-esque.”

She rolled her eyes, but Nick could see the beginnings of a smile as they walked to the door. “Maybe Mr. Lychis is colorblind,” he continued.

A full-fledged grin spread over Judy’s muzzle, which she tried desperately to suppress as she shot the fox a poorly-maintained glare. Police work was supposed to be _ serious business. _He smiled genuinely back, ears perking; having the rabbit by his side was going to make the investigation bearable, at the least.

Coughing into one paw to repress a chuckle, Judy used the other to quickly press on the doorbell. A decidedly stupid jingle could be heard from inside the house, after which a moment or two passed in near-silence. The rabbit paused for another second, sighing, before cupping an amplifying paw to the side of her muzzle.

“Hello! Mr. Lychis? This is the ZPD. We just want to make sure you’re okay.” she shouted, looking up towards the (somehow even more gaudy) second floor.

No response came, and Judy focused her hearing a little more. She couldn’t hear _ any _ voices coming from inside the house, much less a reply. Nick glanced at Judy questioningly.

“Mr. Lychis! ZPD!” she repeated, adding an extra oomph to her voice.

There was almost absolute silence. Even the background hustle-and-bustle of the city seemed muted due to the sheer feeling of solitude the paradoxically-colored house was beginning to project.

The pair exchanged a look of concern. Usually, at least _ someone _ would answer; perhaps a significant other, or a roommate. 

_ Please don’t let this be a murder. _

Nick tentatively reached towards the wood-on-metal handle of the door, pausing just before gripping it. Turning it revealed that the door was unlocked, but he froze after opening only an inch. The inside lights were off, and an eerie silence hung over the entrance. Everything was still, besides the darting eyes of the fox.

_ Okay, that’s _ definitely _ not good. See if you can smell blood. _

He took in a deep breath, noting Judy’s increasingly worried stare on his back. Opening the door a little further, he sniffed the air to find...

Nothing.

His muscles relaxing, Nick let out a relieved sigh as he entered.

_ At least your first big case won’t involve anybody getting killed. Maybe. _

“No blood,” he called, searching for a light switch. Finding it just to his right, Nick flicked it on; harsh light spilled from above, creating small spots against vibrant red and green in Nick’s now-squinting vision. It turns out the interior was just as bad, if not worse. Behind him, Judy inspected the lock: It hadn’t been broken at all — the door had just been unlocked. 

"If there's anyone here, they probably heard us outside," Nick said, evaluating the first room with a careful stare. Everything seemed oddly… typical, besides the lurid colors. No scents or fur, no signs of a struggle, no note or body. It was unnerving, in a way neither officer could quite put their finger on. The almost funhouse-esque design of the interior didn't help.

Nick turned to Judy, jerking a thumb over his shoulder to the nearby stairs. "I don't think we have to worry about getting attacked. You wanna take the ground floor?" he asked, a hue of nervousness shading his normally slick tone.

_ You're fine. Nothing's wrong yet. _

She considered it for a moment, ears perking, before nodding once. "Okay. Call out if you find anything, or need help," she answered absentmindedly, clearly puzzled. Nick returned the nod after a moment’s hesitation.

The stairs themselves were again a strange product of rustic and modern designs, slats in the polished wood forming exaggerated caricatures of fish and other sea creatures. Internally, Nick declined to comment on the fact that Downtown wasn't exactly beachfront property.

Reaching the top of the stairs revealed a short hallway with rooms on either side, and an almost pitifully small floor space between the two. Nick glanced into both rooms. In contrast to just about everything he'd seen so far, each was the most boring beige and black a mammal could imagine. Nick chose the left one on a whim, rolling his eyes at the sudden change in decor.

Entering the room exposed what appeared to be the master bedroom; a large white bed sat in the center of the room, surrounded by square windows and various bland furniture. Nick let out a disapproving hum as he took in the room, mentally noting that there still wasn't anything amiss.

_ Why did he change the style up here, of all places? _

He shrugged, beginning to survey the nearby items as the thought slipped away. Clothes were strewn about surprisingly messily all across the room, and there didn't seem to be any real rhyme nor reason to where anything was placed. It felt a little like a pretentious teenager's bedroom, in a strange way.

Nick circled the bed once, keeping an eye out for fur or anything else incriminating. It didn't seem likely that Lychis would just up and disappear, considering his position and status; something about the circumstances of his disappearance nagged at the fox.

A golden glint caught his eye as he passed a polished pitch-black dresser. Sitting on the top, next to pictures of the oh-so-important Mr. Lychis and several completely untouched classic books, there was a small gilded… coin? It was more coin-shaped than coin, with no real identifications adorning the outside. He turned, regarding it a little strangely. 

_ If Scrooge here was a coin collector — sounds boring enough to be believable — why leave out just one coin? It doesn't look like Zootopian money, either. _

Oddly, the plain palette of the surrounding objects made the coin's gleam pop out even more. It felt out of place to the point of being deliberate, like an abstract painting among a gallery of portraits. Nick inspected it a little closer, thumbing across the surface with his paw, discovering that there were tiny divots in the coin in the shape of a scratched-in spoked circle. Maybe it was the rough work of a claw?

_ That's… even weirder. Your hu— cop powers are tingling; this might be something important. Bring it to Carrots. _

Nick pocketed it smoothly, feeling a memory tickle at the edge of his mind. Something about the disk-like symbol was familiar, he knew. Trying to retrieve the memory, he diligently swept the rest of the room for any leads; there wasn't anything of particular note, besides the fact that one of the large immaculately-polished windows was wide open. Odd, considering all the other windows the fox had seen were completely locked. Nick gave it another once-over, tracing the edges with his eyes.

_ An escape route? _

_ … _

_ More than that, maybe. An entrance? _

Plodding over to the window revealed clumping strands of brown fur barely ringing the edges, with the lock on the window having been viciously brute-forced. Obviously, the perpetrator was not aiming for subtlety. Nick studied the sliding lock a little closer; it had been thoroughly snapped, the yellowed metal transitioning from a smooth cylinder to something more writhing. A smile broke out on the fox’s face.

_ A lead. You did it, Wilde! This is your chance! _

A wonderful feeling of satisfaction, pride, and accomplishment… 

Didn’t fill him. 

Nick looked at his paws, confusion blossoming on his muzzle. He felt the same. There was an odd sensation building in his chest, sure, but at his core he didn’t feel any different. It—

“Nick! Find anything?” Judy cut in, her voice echoing from the hallway behind him. The fox paused for a moment, trying to catch the strange feeling before it escaped, but it slipped through his grasp.

_ Don’t worry about it. You have a lead now, and that’s all that matters. _

“I— Yeah. Come on up, Carrots,” Nick called back, shoving his thoughts away. 

There was a noticeable pause in the rabbit's stride up the steps as he stuttered, but before Nick could comment on it she was just outside the door's frame. A frown marred her muzzle, and she watched him intently. 

_ Probably confused by the color change. _

Nick tilted his head towards the window, flicking his eyes between it and the rabbit; the fur itself was in sharp relief to the varnished white of the window, now that he took a second look at it. He internally cursed himself for not finding it sooner. It didn’t take long for her eyes to focus on the evidence, and any mammal could see the clear joy building on her face as she began to walk towards him.

“Ooh, Nick! You did it!” she lauded, a sizable sliver of pride in her voice. The rabbit raised her fist to playfully punch him, but apparently thought better of it and dropped her arm.

Pleased by her praise, Nick let out a little smile and laugh. The sense of satisfaction he should’ve been feeling was still missing, but seeing Judy happy took precedence; as if to prove it, his tail swished languidly behind him.

_ Don’t forget the coin. _

It still didn’t strike him as particularly significant, but the strangeness surrounding it still tickled at his mind; why was it almost blank? Why did he feel like he had seen the symbol, and why was it placed on top of a nondescript dresser, of all places? Nick thumbed over it in his pocket before taking it out to show Judy, trapping it between his claws.

“By the way, I found this on his dresser. It seems… weird, I guess. I don’t think I’ve ever seen any money like it before, and that’s coming from me,” he confessed.

Judy reached up and plucked the coin out of his paw, studying it closely. Absentmindedly, her foot started to thump the wooden boards, slowly increasing in tempo.

“Is it… a wheel?” she said slowly.

Suddenly, it clicked. 

_ The graffiti by the Docks, of course! _

“I remember! I saw that same symbol down by the Docks yesterday, on my way home!” he shouted, eyes widening and ears perking. Seeing the various symbols essentially every day had relegated them to Nick’s subconscious more than anything else, but hearing a description out loud had triggered his memory.

_ Why would they have an inscribed coin, though? It seems… amateurish, like something out of a D-rate movie. _

“Nick! That— wait, you live by the Docks?” she questioned, eyebrows knitting together in confusion.

Nick, his thought process completely derailed, visibly winced and scrambled for an answer.

_ You can’t tell her that you live in a _ warehouse _ , of all places. _

_ ...It is a pretty nice warehouse, though. _

"It's one of the few residential places down there. Not too bad, and I'll be getting a new place within the next few months. Most of my money goes to my mom," he said, attempting to brush the question off. Years of practice with lying had taught the fox that the most effective type of deception was shaded with truth.

Judy, ears perking with curiosity, eyed him with no small amount of skepticism. A question about his mother was obviously on the tip of her tongue, but unfortunately for the fox she saw past the deflection. "Come to think of it, I don't think I've ever seen your place," she started carefully.

_ It isn't her problem. _

Shrugging noncommittally, Nick carefully maintained his mask of near-indifference, his gaze shifting back to the window. "Not much to see, to be honest." 

Lying to his partner head-on, even if it was (by Nick's reasoning) justified, felt much worse than keeping his anxiety under wraps. It was a mental impasse: internally, Nick could feel the desire to be honest violently clashing with the compulsion to keep the less-than-savory details of his life secret from his closest friend. 

The fox paused, taking another look at the rabbit's expression; it was more worried than the cocktail of anger and pity he'd been expecting, thus barely tipping the scales in favor of honesty.

_ Maybe you should take it one step at a time. Maybe don't start with the big stuff, dumb fox. _

_ ... _

_ Yeah. Yeah, that could work. _

The tod let the moment drag a little longer before speaking up once again, feeling a touch lighter. “Anyways, I saw graffiti like this down by the Docks. Probably a new group, since I don’t know ‘em.” 

Judy, clear concern still written in her eyes, made a small “hm” sort of noise as her paw resumed its assault on the poor floorboards. There weren’t very many ZPD-related avenues of information for newer gangs, and nothing so far had indicated a criminal association besides the missing mammal. The internet wouldn't help much, either.

_ Could’ve been a part of the group, too. We need more info. _

Apparently, Judy had reached the same conclusion. “Maybe we should talk to Mr. Big?” she suggested uncertainly.

_ Stay legal! This _ isn’t _ a job for Slick Nick, and it never will be. _

The fox shook his head. “I don’t think he’d know. Tundratown is more his turf.”

Now pacing, Judy snuck another few looks back at the window. “Do you know anybody who might know?” 

_ L-E-G-A-L. Pretty much nobody from who you used to be. Except for maybe… _

“Finnick,” Nick said with an edge of finality, leaning against the edge of the bedpost. Offhandedly, he noticed a spike of dread pierce his stomach. He tried vehemently to ignore it.

Judy shot him a vague look of concern. “Are you two…?” 

_ Be honest with her. One step at a time. _

“I… don’t know, honestly. We haven't talked… at all. I saw him this morning, but…" Nick started doubtfully, proudly noting the genuine ebb and flow of each word.

"I'll probably be okay," he finished, trying not to dwell on the unsaid.

The rabbit nodded slowly, excitement eclipsing the dregs of worry as she turned back towards the door. “Perfect. How about I get this fur to the lab, and you meet up with little Toot-Toot?” 

_ You can do this. _

The tod smiled. “Yeah. Perfect.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Excited for the next chapter, as I've outlined an interesting interpretation for Finnick at this point in the timeline. It's kinda nice to have so little information on him, as it gives an opportunity for creativity to the fans.
> 
> If you're reading this, you obviously have finished the chapter. For some reason. If it isn't too much trouble, could you tell me in the comments how I'm doing on dialogue? Does it feel natural, or is it strange and unbecoming of the characters? Nailing down speech patterns and "normal" dialogue is something I'm working on, so I'd more than appreciate any and all feedback.
> 
> Also, ANYTHING SMALL YOU NOTICE THAT'S WRONG OR ANNOYING. That's the most important bit that I wish for feedback on. No pressure though, as readership alone is fine by me.
> 
> Thanks for reading. I do try to respond to every comment, but sometimes I'm delayed by a few days.


	5. King of Spades

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nick reconciles with Finnick, and his goal is finally illuminated. The case progresses.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies for taking so long to update. Depression has been hitting really hard lately and it's difficult to get motivated. Despite this,
> 
> YOU HAVE MY 100% RYNADINE VOW THAT I'M GOING TO FINISH THIS FIC.
> 
> It's probably going to take awhile, but I promise you'll get a conclusion. Even if I fall out of the fandom somehow or I grow to hate fanfiction, (neither of which are happening dw) I'm going to finish this.
> 
> Anyways.
> 
> Proud of this chapter. It's one of the "Big Scenes" I listed in the outline, which means I envisioned it essentially before the rest of the story. There's about 4-6 more Big Scenes before the story goes out, so I hope the others will live up to this one (assuming it's good).
> 
> The focal point of this chapter is characterizing Nick and Finnick. Hopefully, Finnick's issues don't come too far out of left field, as they will be explored later in the narrative. Rest assured that I researched heavily into anxiety/depression/anger issues/alcoholism before writing in order to stay as real as possible. If you'd like to see that research, please comment and I'll link it.
> 
> Criticism/Concrit is always appreciated. I try to respond to every comment, but sometimes things come up or I get anxious about it.

“So,” Nick began, “d’you wanna hear a joke, Carrots?” 

Judy, eyeing the street-level fox from inside the squad car, gave him a 'please do not' look. Nick had a feeling that look was reserved for him because she diligently refused to answer. His grin widened.

"Why did the police officer arrest the duck?"

Nick's tail wagged with obvious glee as she still didn't answer, and his pleased-with-himself smile set itself to maximum smug. 

"He was selling quack!"

A groan escaped the rabbit. Nick's jokes had devolved from bad-funny to just bad over the course of his training at the academy, and she couldn't help but feel like they were only going to get worse. She was right, of course, but that didn't lessen the dread.

"Just… be careful, okay? Can't lose my partner on day one of our first case."

"I'll be fiiiine, Carrots. Gonna figure out where we stand first, then ask about the case," he reassured with a thumbs-up and wink. 

_ "Fine," huh? Sure are getting a lot of mileage out of that word today, Slick. _

Judy didn't quite look convinced. "I… alright. I trust you."

Flinching almost instinctively, Nick felt a few pangs of disappointment in himself for not confessing his anxiety. Although he expected the feeling to pass quickly, each fleck of guilt stuck to his conscious like darts on a dartboard.

_ You'll tell her soon. One step at a time. _

The rabbit gave him another evaluative once-over before turning her attention back to the wheel of the squad car, with a deflective smirk growing on her muzzle. "I'll pick you up in an hour or so, Nick. Don't get into too much trouble," she said, expecting him to return with a quip. 

To her surprise, Nick nodded genuinely. "I won't. Seeya soon, Officer Fluff." 

She gave him a hesitant wave before driving off, which he eagerly mirrored.

After a few more moments of hesitation, Nick looked pensively towards the double-doors of Finnick's van, paws in his pockets. He didn’t doubt Finnick would be mad, but an increasingly-less-buried part of him held out hope that the two foxes could stay friends, or at the very least, reconcile. Anxiety began to swirl in his mind, but he forcefully kicked it back down - pushing it away was only a temporary solution, and he had a feeling that if things went poorly a panic attack might surface. His walk over to the van was swift and purposeful.

Letting out a sigh, he gently knocked twice on the doors. A beat of silence passed before Nick could hear a muffled “who is it!?” from inside. Expecting to see (or violently meet) the business end of a baseball bat bursting through the back of the van, Nick patiently waited.

Nothing happened.

A little put off, Nick cupped a paw to his muzzle and whispered, “It’s… Offi- I mean, it's Nick, Finn. I just want to talk.”

Light swearing could be heard from the vehicle, followed by a pregnant pause. Just barely, Nick heard a muttered “come in,” seep through the doors. 

Nick opened the back slowly, expecting the usual telltale _ clink _of the door hitting alcohol bottles sprawled carelessly across the back. No such sound came, and light spilled into the lowly-lit van.

Inside, Finnick sat cross-legged on a small blue mat, his mouth drawn into a taut, wire-like line. A dim cigarette hung tightly from the edge of his lips, but his clothes were surprisingly pristine. After adjusting to the light, he eyed Nick critically, his gaze hitching on the polished police badge affixed to the red fox’s chest. The taller tod gulped nervously, ears flicking back as his eyes avoided the stare of the fennec.

“Look, I know tha—” Nick started, quickly cutting himself off as Finnick raised a paw in a universal ‘shut-the-hell-up’ sort of gesture. 

“Save it, Wilde,” he said, clipping each word in a cold, percussive staccato. 

Nick winced, blindsided by the fennec’s detached tone. 

_ Where’s the trademarked anger and fury? Where are the only half-joking threats? _

The last thing he’d been expecting was to be given the cold shoulder. A stillness hung in the air that made Nick’s fur prickle. It hadn’t even been a full minute, and he already felt the unnerved anxiety start to bubble back up. Finnick’s ambiguous expression of consideration only intensified as the heavy silence went on.

At last, when Nick could almost _ feel _the dread eating at his insides, the diminutive fox spoke.

“What’s it like?” An uncharacteristic softness filed his normally gruff voice.

Nick, now thoroughly dumbstruck, soundlessly worked his mouth in a futile attempt to speak. He managed an “I… what?” before shamefully lapsing back into confused silence.

Finnick gave him a level look, unperturbed. “How’s bein’ legit?”

“What?” he repeated, “Finnick, I— it’s fine, I guess. Are we good? Or—”

The fennec made the ‘shut-up’ gesture again, and Nick felt his bewilderment beginning to shift to anger.

_ Why is he being so difficult!? _

Finnick didn’t even blink as Nick’s eyes narrowed, but his eyes did flick to the red vulpine’s tail as it irritatedly lashed back and forth. Emotional whiplash, he knew, was not an excellent conversation-starter.

“Just wanna know,” he placated, rolling the dim cigarette in his mouth.

Anger circled back to confusion; Nick took a deep breath, centering himself.

_ He just wants to know about you. You haven’t talked to him in _ months. _ Maybe he isn’t Carrots, but you could do with a little more honesty in your life, Slick. _

“I… love it. Really, I do," he began wistfully, his words more of a stream of consciousness than the usual carefully calculated rhetoric, "and… it's good. I dunno how else to explain it; being a cop makes me feel like I'm _ good_."

Finnick nodded knowingly, his eyebrows knitting together. Any of Nick's lingering nervousness fell away at the subtle encouragement.

"Makes ya feel good, or makes ya feel like a good mammal?" Finnick prodded surprisingly softly.

Nick contemplated it for only a moment. "Both. I wouldn't trade it for the world…" he trailed off.

"But?" the fennec supplied.

Averting his eyes from the smaller fox, Nick paused again to collect his thoughts.

_ Say it. _

Nick mumbled something too quiet to be coherent, then cleared his throat, raising one paw in a three-fingered sign. Finnick's eyes widened, but only slightly; the Junior Ranger Scouts sign was a sort of pact between them which signified total and complete honesty, no teasing allowed. Both foxes had used it several times during their hustling days.

"But sometimes it feels like I'm not enough," he confessed quietly, "and that _ scares _ me. I'm Zootopia's first fox cop — from _ any _ subspecies of fox — so I should be setting an example! I thought I wanted my first case soon, so I could prove myself, but now that it's here I can't stop thinking about how I'm screwing it up," he said despondently, dropping his head to his paws.

A moment of quiet passed before Finnick sat up, plodding over to Nick and putting a comforting paw on his shoulder.

"And?" Finnick supplied again. A pause.

_ Keep going. _

"It's stupid," Nick finally grumbled, "but sometimes it feels like I'm not even an officer. Like this is some stupid costume; a quarter of the precinct won't even talk to me, and another half constantly give me looks like I'm a dirty con-fox about to go savage,” he mumbled, diligently inspecting the tips of his claws.

"Wilde, ya lived with the bias against foxes for twenty years, and I was with ya for most of those," Finnick said, real curiosity inflecting his voice, "so what's different now?"

_ Obviously being a cop, but... _

Nick considered it, trying to reach one of the core reasons for his anxieties. The conclusion he reached came with startling force and clarity.

_ You know exactly why it's different. Tell him. _

"Because now I want to _ be _ somebody, Finn. I don't want to be Slick Nick, stereotypical warehouse-living former con-fox extraordinaire."

He paused, finally bringing his head out of his paws.

"I want to be _ Officer Wilde_."

Nick let the statement echo inside the van, each letter of each word dripping with heartfelt sincerity. He took a few deep breaths, the catharsis of speaking it aloud rolling over him in a gentle wave.

Finnick nodded again, patting his shoulder consolingly. "I figured. I... forgive ya, Wilde. For leaving."

His eyes snapping up to meet the fennec, Nick's mouth hung open.

_ It can't be that easy. _

"You're kidding, right? I left you —practically without warning —_ nine months ago _ and haven't talked to you since," Nick protested half-heartedly, convinced it was a hustle. Natural skepticism didn't let him think that their reconciliation could go so well, and the doubt kneaded into his voice made it clear.

Finnick shuffled self-consciously, throwing Nick off even further, and the cigarette hung a little looser from his mouth. "Maybe ya ain't the only one tryin' ta change," he said quietly.

Nick's mouth dropped open even further; Finnick chuckled lightly, moving back towards the blue mat.

"Here: why don't we play some cards? No cheating, for either of us," he suggested, a small smile gracing his muzzle. Standing up, Finnick turned around to rummage for a deck in the front seat.

Utterly derailed by the non sequitur, the taller vulpine nodded with slowly increasing tempo. It didn't seem proper to refuse after everything that'd just been confessed. Still, cards felt like an odd solution to his self-doubt, and frankly Nick felt like there was more that he wanted to say.

Finnick, having swiftly shuffled the deck, wordlessly dealt both foxes a two-card hand, leaving the deck in the middle. Blackjack was practically a second language to both foxes, and Nick allowed himself the small comfort provided by the familiarity.

They played in relative silence, only broken by a quiet "hit," "stand," or low noise of discontent. For what might've been the first time in Nicholas Wilde's life, he had absolutely no idea what to say.

After a few more muted rounds, Finnick snickered soundlessly. When he spoke, Nick flinched, startled by the break in quiet.

"Ya know what happened after ya left?"

"How am I supposed t—" 

"It was ret… rheco… rh— just shut up for a bit, a'ight!?" he growled playfully. Confused at the return of their banter, Nick allowed himself a hesitant smile. The moment sat for a few seconds longer before Finnick's muzzle dropped back into a thoughtful frown.

"Had to go get myself a real job, after ya went to police school or whatever. Little store down in Sahara Square, run by this old jackal who didn't come 'round a lot…" he started. It sounded like he forced out each word; not in the sense he was lying, but rather that he was forcing himself to be honest. Nick sympathized almost immediately.

"But?" the other fox gently parroted the support from earlier.

Finnick looked away, and total shame filled his muzzle. "Came in some days drunk, or smoking, or just plain _ angry_."

He paused for a moment, ears folding back.

"I was so angry, all the time. Some days I wouldn't even know why. It affected my work, too, and how the customers saw the store. Kept blaming you, just stewin' in my own problems. Went to drink to get less angry, but it only made everythin' _ worse,_" he said softly, pausing to clear his throat. 

Nick nodded encouragingly. Anger problems were something he was aware the fennec had been dealing for decades, but he'd never asked out of a respect for privacy. In turn, Finnick had never opened up — until now, apparently.

"I think I was… _ jealous _ of how ya got out. We spent a buncha years together where it was just one hustle after another, nothin'... long-term. An' then one day, outta the goddamn blue, ya just get picked up and whisked away to somethin' better," he complained. 

"It isn't perfect," Nick interjected quietly.

"No, it ain't. It ain't ever gonna be perfect for ya, Wilde. But it's _ better_."

"'Better' is a low bar to stride for, Finn. I want it — I want _ me _ —to be good, not just 'better' than hustling."

Finnick's expression darkened, but he quickly recentered himself through what Nick assumed was a breathing technique.

"Sometimes 'better' is all ya gonna get," he said, pointing an accusatory digit right between Nick's eyes, "and you gotta go through 'better' to get to 'good.'"

A quiet fell over the van as the red fox gave his friend a strange look, filing away his surprisingly insightful advice for a later date. Still, something nagged at him; introspection was hardly Finnick's strong suit, and that didn't seem liable to change in of less than a year.

_ What's really going on? _

"Yeah. Okay, yeah, you're right. Things are getting better for me. I get it," he said, pausing to let his words sink in.

"But when did you get so… supportive, Finnick? Not that I'm complaining, but this isn't like you."

Finnick looked away again, his tail going completely still. 

"Like I said, I got a job when ya left, and at the beginning it ain't great. One day boss comes up to me and tells me 'you gotta stop this, else I gotta fire ya,'" he admitted, rolling the dimly-lit cigarette in his mouth. 

"He refers me to this shrink a few blocks away, offers to pay for my first session," he said, a little less forced than before. The umber-brown of his eyes softened. "Real nice mammal, that jackal. Anyways, I go ahead and go — cause why not, right? It's _ free_. Mammal doesn't refuse somethin' free from a friend."

Nick made a low noise of agreement, feeling peppered pangs of disappointment that he wasn't there to help. Even if they were on opposing sides of the law, Finnick had been practically his brother for a little less than _ twenty years_. Although fully willing to give up everything else from his criminal history, the kinship with Finnick was one of the few snippets Nick was more than willing to hold on to, so long as their interaction remained legal.

"So I walk through the door — it's a place for small mammals, by the way — and get whooshed off into this little room with a wolf lady. It ain't like the movies, with a stupid brown couch and mammals askin' 'howdya feel?' and all that. It was real personal. I trust ya, but it's _ real _ personal, y'know?"

Nick nodded, smiling genuinely. It didn't feel right to interrupt him at this point, but he had to express his encouragement somehow.

Finnick played with his paws, rolling a small coin (Nick offhandedly wondered when he'd picked it up) between each digit. His eyes raised to the red tod with a rare sight — a complete and honest smile. The kind that can't be acted, for a hustle or otherwise.

"And it _ works_. Been goin' just about every week. I felt shitty — I _ was _ shitty — and now I'm gettin' better. Not nearly as angry, and one month sober. For cigarettes and alcohol."

Nick wasn't sure whether to comment on the fact that the fennec was _ currently smoking_, but it seemed like a fair question. Pointing towards Finnick's mouth, he asked, "so why are you..."

Finnick soundlessly took it out of his mouth, passing it to Nick. Upon closer inspection, it wasn't a cigarette at all; The "cigarette" was actually a small plastic rod with a cluster of cheap orange-yellow LEDs at the end. They shined with a dim glow, just enough to make it look real from even a small distance.

"It's fake. Supposed to help me keep away from the real thing," Finnick clarified, shifting from one paw to another.

"I— Finnick," Nick started, chest swelling with pride, "this—_ you _ are incredible. I… I'm proud of you. Really."

Finnick, totally unused to praise, allowed his grin to widen even further. His chest puffed out with hard-earned confidence. "It ain't easy — never was, never will be — but I'm workin' towards it. Think 'bout that next time ya feeling down, brother."

_ Nicholas Wilde is not a crier. _

Still, his lower lip wobbled dangerously as he passed the fake cigarette back to Finnick. "We good?" he whispered hopefully, already knowing the answer.

The fennec gave him a wink filled with playful camaraderie. "Speak for yo'self, Wilde."

He paused, beginning to pick up the cards scattered around the van.

"Yeah. Yeah, we good, you crazy kit."

Both foxes let the moment sit for a little longer, basking in the simple contentment of rekindled friendship. Despite the silence, Finnick looked like he was trying to say something. Nick rolled one paw in a 'go-ahead' motion.

"Ya know ya should tell bunny cop 'bout ya _ problems,_" he finally stated, disdainfully speaking the word 'problems' the same way any other mammal might say 'tax evasion'. Nick knew it came from a place of concern rather than mockery, but he still guiltily played with his claws.

"I know," he said, a rueful sigh escaping him, "I've never been good at being honest. But I'm going to try to tell her. Small steps." It felt _ right _ to say it out loud; it was essentially a commitment. His head felt lighter, for the first time that day.

_ Gotta go through 'better' to get to 'good,' Wilde. One step at a time_

Finnick nodded approvingly. "Nice. You know she wants to help, brother. Has since day _ one _."

Nick shifted, uncomfortable with talking about his anxiety so straightforwardly. "Yeah, I know," he said quietly, "but she's _ Judy Hopps_. She has enough problems — not to say she can't solve them, but still — without worrying about me all the time."

A clear expression of disapproval marred Finnick's muzzle; the solution seemed so _simple _ to him. Unfortunately, the inability to confide in his partner about his nervousness was a mental block, not a logical one. 

"It'd be easier for you if ya told her now," he suggested softly, beginning to pick up the cards scattered across the van's floor.

_ It can wait. Maybe a few days, or after the case. There are smaller steps you should take first. _

Predictably, Nick looked away, feeling his stomach twist. "I'll tell her tomorrow, Finn," he mumbled. Whether or not it was a lie, the red fox wasn't sure.

Finnick let out an ambiguous noise, somewhere between an affirmative grunt and an exasperated huff. "Arright,” he said, letting a beat of silence pass, “just tell her before ya do anything… _ big_.”

Immediately, Nick's ears flattened against his head. He let out a mirthless chuckle. “Judy go- I mean, _ we _got our first case today. As partners,” he fumbled, trying to ignore the fennec’s mixed expression of incredulity and dawning comprehension.

"_Wilde,_” Finnick said icily, “you better tell me you didn’t come here just to get help with a case.”

_ Be honest! This is your chance to show him that you’re a changed fox! _

Nick hung his head, internally noting that his anxiety had started to rise. “I really did want to talk to you,” he mumbled, half-lying, “but I need your help, too.” 

Finnick let out a long and thoughtful sigh, watching the struggling red fox uncertainly. For Nick, each breath was starting to come out a little tighter, and the brief clearheadedness he had felt was beginning to recede into a hazy fog. 

_ It can’t end like this! You were just beginning to reconnect, and now you’ve screwed everything up, you _ idiot!_ Aren’t you supposed to be charming? Cunning? If you can’t even be honest about something this small, how are you going to be a good cop? _

“I-I’m sorry, seriously, I did just want to talk, and it was stupid of me to assume that you would want to help, an—” he blathered, feeling the gnawing edges of a panic attack begin to claw at his conscious.

“It’s arright!” Finnick shouted over his babbling, waving his paws in a vaguely supportive gesture. There was silence for a moment before Nick’s mouth shut with a barely-audible _ click_.

“I’ll be honest, it was kind of shitty to know that you came here cause ya wanted something, but I understand where you’re comin’ from,” he placated quickly, “and I believe you, okay? Chill.”

Nick let out a long breath, the sudden spike of nervousness lingering in his stomach. “Really?” he managed.

“Yeah,” the fennec said, "So what's up?"

Nick held out the dull gold coin, his paws only slightly shaking. If the diminutive fox truly did know the coin’s connotations, the rest of his first case would progress much more smoothly — they’d either run out of leads or there would be a clear trail to follow. Somehow, neither thought was comforting.

Finnick turned it over carefully in his paws, squinting slightly as he thumbed over the scratched-in wheel. A worrying paw worked its way behind his head.

“I’ve seen this, yeah. Mammal in one of my... " — he wouldn't meet Nick's eyes — "..._ therapy groups _ likes to paint it when we're relaxing. Artist type, y'know."

_ ...Huh. _

Nick wasn't sure what to make of that. Nonetheless, he leaned ever-so-slightly in, intrigued. "Do you think I could meet with them?" he asked, pensiveness beginning to broil in his stomach.

Nodding, Finnick gave the other fox a tentative once-over. "Yeah. Today or tomorrow, come to me after six. Bring your rabbit, too. He's… _ skittish, _ sometimes_._"

_ Oh, great. When I think of "relaxing activities," being questioned by a cop or two is way up there. _

That thought didn't quite reach his mouth. Instead, "Since when was she 'my rabbit,' Finn?" came out, slightly bemused.

Confusion followed by understanding worked its way across Finnick's muzzle, but the resultant emotions quickly developed into a knowing smirk. "Nevermind," he said, smothered laughter working its way into his voice, "How about we play s'more cards?"  
  


* * *

Nick hopped back down on the street, giving Finnick a quick goodbye and a friendly wave before shutting the doors to the van. Their reunion had gone well, all things considered, and the smile on Nick’s face as he turned to the horizon proved it.

The afternoon sun hung high in the sky, bathing the fox in gentle warmth. It felt wonderful to get up and stretch after sitting so long in the van, and the pleasant emotional catharsis from his visit was a mentally perfect backdrop. For once, everything felt… quiet. Peaceful, even. The staple pessimism of _‘what if I’m not a good cop’_ or _ ‘what if today’s the day everything falls apart’ _was nowhere to be found, and Nick relished in the respite.

Lazily, he dragged a pair of sunglasses out of his pocket, perching them lightly onto his muzzle as he sat down on the sidewalk. Judy would be back any second now, but in the meantime he didn’t see any problem with relaxing a little further.

Of course, as luck would have it, Judy pulled up in the squad car less than a minute later. 

His ears didn’t so much as twitch when the vehicle’s low rumble slowly approached, but his eyes did languidly open.

“Hey, Nick!” she called, poking her head out of the window. One paw was cupped to the side of her face in an effort to amplify the sound, even though the fox was almost close enough for her to whisper. Concerned, she gave him a look clearly meant to ask whether he was okay. He smiled.

“I’m fi- good. I'm good, Carrots.”

He paused.

"Wanna hear a joke?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you liked it. I think it's good, but you tell me I guess. Nick finally wins a little!
> 
> I'd like to say that this obviously isn't the conclusion of Nick's character arc; it's just a small confidence boost to build him up a little before everything may or may not go to shit.
> 
> Also, wouldya look at that! Two characters with something to lose if Nick fails! Isn't that such a crazy coincidence? 
> 
> Finnick's going to come back later in the narrative, by the way. Hope you like him so far.
> 
> Feedback welcome!


End file.
